


Learning

by voksen



Series: WKverse [4]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Backstory, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-22
Updated: 2009-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/pseuds/voksen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the reasons Schuldig likes Sylvia Lin:</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning

These are the reasons Schuldig likes Sylvia Lin:

She's impossible to miss. In a world of uniforms and suits, she wears brilliant dresses, scarlet and gold and blue and green, brilliant, saturated jewelbox colors, and not suit dresses, either; they're cut like nothing he's ever seen. She wears her hair long, sometimes up, sometimes down: however she feels like it, but it's always perfectly arranged. Her hands are always bare, but she wears earrings and necklaces that pull the eye to her face, her throat, her breasts. Her shoes are occasionally impractical heels, but they look amazing: she looks like a fucking movie star, and she knows it.

It's in every movement; he doesn't have to read her to see her confidence. She knows she's the best and every step, every gesture is a challenge to the world. He likes that, the certainty of it, the cool arrogance; it fits her. It also makes her even sexier than she is, the challenge of it; she doesn't care about what he has to say, won't let him drag her down to attainability. Maybe he could work around it, given time, access to her mind, but he's not likely to get that. He's not sure if he would, anyway, given how much he likes her as it is; seeing her broken would be sweet, but he doesn't think he could put the pieces back together again.

Besides, she takes him seriously. Not as a telepath - all of Rosenkreuz knows better than that by now - but physically, too. She teaches him for real, like he didn't have another gift, as if he'd have to deal with nothing but speed, doesn't treat him like he's got nothing of use but his brain. And she never goes easy on him; they race, they spar, and if he's not fast enough she dumps him on his ass.

He'll never be the fighter she is, he knows, even if after a few months he starts being able to keep up with her; he doesn't have her strength. And that's something to admire all on its own: he watches her in the gym, lifting more than he can with her muscles alone, then more and more as she works her power into it, weaving it through her body. She sets him to working out, too, and _somehow_ he always seems to be there at the same time as she is. She's not shy of her body; God knows she has no reason to be. She walks just as proudly barefoot in a leotard with a sheen of sweat as she does in her dresses and heels, and it's hard for him to decide how he likes her better.

When she _finally_ gives in to his not-so-subtle hints and takes him to bed, he decides he likes that best of all, anyway. She's just as exacting in bed as out of it; tells him what she wants and takes it if he can't give it, and teaches him the most important lesson he ever learns: you find what you want and you go after it, and you use everything you have to get it, gift, mind, body, whatever it takes.

And the sex - the sex is amazing, and that's probably damning it with faint praise. Maybe he's not the greatest the first time or two, but he learns fast, learns how to please her and make her moan and gasp - how to make her come, how to make her lose control until her strong fingers leave bone-deep bruises in his arms, his shoulders.

That's the best part: not that he doesn't love touching her, licking her, fucking her, but the bruises _last_ ; he can run his fingers over them later, alone: pressing them calls back the pain, so sweet it makes his mouth water, the memory of her body against his coming with it. They don't look any different on the outside than the ones he gets training with her, so no one knows and he doesn't tell, harbors his secrets, hoarding them up.


End file.
